


Catharsis

by PrincessOfNothingCharming



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, No ALIE, Post Season 2, Post-Mount Weather, Princess Mechanic friendship, Sharing a Bed, Torture, murphy never went with jaha, this will be super angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessOfNothingCharming/pseuds/PrincessOfNothingCharming
Summary: Bellamy only had eyes for Clarke then, the boy rushing to her side. She dangled there, her eyes fluttering open and shut slowly as if she didn’t even know what was going on. His hands hovered over her body, afraid to touch her and bring her more pain. Months of searching when no one else would, and he had finally found her. “Clarke,” he breathed, one hand finally brushing over her cheek.It took a moment, maybe only seconds, but her eyes slowly moved over and found his. Her lips were pale and they opened, mouthing his name, but no sound came out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo this is my first ever story for The 100. I am in love with this show and this couple! This is pretty dark and I'm not even sure I know exactly where it's going to go, but I know how I want it to end. I took a few liberties with the timeline, but it should be pretty easy to follow. 
> 
> Anyway, please let me know if you guys like it and I'll try to get another part up soon.

The blood that dripped down her leg was warm, scorching even against the winter flurry. Huge drifts of snow made it impossible for her to tell where she was going; any landmarks she might have recognized were hidden beneath layers of frost. She could remember reading about snow back on the Ark. The volumes about Earth had described something beautiful and deadly. 

She wondered idly if she would die out here like the settlers in the old days. After months of self-imposed isolation, the thought was oddly comforting.

Clarke brushed her dry tongue against her lips and tasted copper. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since her last meal, but at the least the rumbling of her stomach had turned into a dull ache. It was familiar. She stumbled over a root hidden beneath the snow and her knees smashed to the ground. Thick, dark blood stained the perfect white where she landed.

For a moment, she lied there, dull blue eyes staring into the misty winter sky. If she just stopped fighting, it would all be over soon. But Clarke had never been a quitter. Whatever willpower had kept her alive these last months pushed Clarke back to her feet. She wobbled where she stood, her eyes unfocused and cloudy with each dragging step she took. She couldn’t do this for much longer. 

Her messy blonde hair fell in her face as she tilted her head, listening to the quiet footsteps approaching. The grounders had been hunting her for weeks, finally catching her when the cold, so unfamiliar to someone who had lived on the consistency of the Ark, had slowed all of her instincts. She’d gotten away because the grounder who found her had been alone. Well, he wasn’t alone now.

She pulled her small knife out of her pocket slowly, the very same one she had used to mercy kill Atom just a few short months ago. Her chest ached with each icy breath, and her lips had lost all color. Whether it was blood loss or the cold though, she couldn’t be sure. In fact, she wasn’t sure about much these days. Her eyes fluttered with sudden exhaustion, and a choked sob fell from her lips when she crashed back to the ground. Funny, crashing to the ground was how she had ended up in this predicament in the first place.

With fingers that ached down the bone, Clarke gripped her knife tighter. She tried to push herself back onto her knees, but the wound in her thigh wouldn’t be ignored anymore. It wasn’t deep, but the muscles strained with each step she tried to take. She collapsed back against the snow, the red berries she’d used in her hair fading into the snow, “Ugh!”

She had just barely lifted herself onto her knees when the noose was thrown over her head. The coarse rope dug into her neck as she was jerked onto her back. Her knife laid forgotten as both her hands curled around the edge of the noose, and she kicked her feet wildly. She couldn’t even scream, the wind completely knocked out of her. In fact, she couldn’t catch her breath at all, her face turning blue as the fight started to leave her.

Take care of them for me.

For a moment, one perfect moment, Clarke felt all the weight lift from her shoulders. The grounder dragging her spoke low, her fuzzy mind unable to make out any words as two others joined the first. One of them laughed as his cold green eyes met hers and he kicked at her injured leg. She choked out a breath, just moments from passing out, and the pain came rushing back. Every single part of her body hurt and for the first time since landing on Earth, the damage to her body matched the damage to her soul.

As unconsciousness took her, she saw Bellamy’s face back at the gate to Camp Jaha. She saw the devastation that crossed his face and his quiet pleading for her to stay. Regret had come to her many times these last two months. And it came back now, in the reminder of everyone she had left behind. Of Bellamy.

May we meet again

***

Murphy swallowed hard and tugged his thin coat tighter around himself to protect against the harsh winds. They’d been out here for hours now with nothing to show for it. He exchanged a glance with Miller, both turning their eyes on Bellamy. They adjusted their guns and Murphy rolled his eyes when none of the others dared to speak up.

He cleared his throat and passed Monroe, holding up a hand in surrender when Bellamy turned with narrowed eyes. “At the risk of you using that gun on me, what the hell are we doing out here, Bellamy? Clarke’s not here. Just like she wasn’t at the last 10 places we looked for her. And just like she won’t be at the next 10. I hate to break it to you, Blake, but since no one else will… Clarke’s dead. No one could survive out here on their own. And if I’m wrong and she’s not, she clearly doesn’t want to be found! So you need to get your head out of your ass and accept that before you get the rest of us killed!”

Murphy supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised by the hit, but somehow he still was. He crashed to the ground, puffs of snow rising up around him. He saw Bellamy ready to strike again and pulled his own gun closer – just in case. Sometimes he wondered if he should have gone with Jaha after all. With the way people still looked at him, like he was still just a criminal, it would have been too easy to leave all this behind. But something had compelled him to stay. Call it loyalty, or maybe stupidity, but Murphy couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Except for maybe right this second.

“Bellamy!” Miller stepped in front of Bellamy, one hand on his friend’s chest. He was ready to say something, to agree with Murphy, when something caught his eye. “Is that-”

“Blood,” Monroe supplied. She shivered and offered a hand to Murphy. 

“Clarke.” Bellamy whispered her name, dropping into a crouch near the bloodstain. His hand hovered the snow, but he didn’t touch, frown lines creasing his forehead.

“It looks old," Monroe said quietly. Like the others, hesitation was written all over her face. “We have no reason to even think it’s her.”

“Indra said she’d been spotted near here,” Bellamy reminded them. He saw Murphy’s eyeroll, and he felt that familiar pang of fire in the pit of his stomach. 

Clarke had been gone for over two months now. The first two weeks Bellamy hadn’t gone after her, but his eyes and ears had been open for any news of her. It wasn’t until Indra came to Kane with news that Clarke – or Wanheda as the grounders now called her – was being hunted that Bellamy finally gave into his desire of searching for Clarke. By that point she had wandered so deep into enemy territory, that it was hard to keep track of her. Kane had pulled back his own men for the safety of camp when the snow storms started, but Bellamy had been unwilling to stop. Not until he found her.

Monroe and Miller followed him into danger out of pure loyalty. No one really understood why Murphy was there, but Bellamy was grateful for the extra help. Or well, he usually was. 

“At the risk of you hitting me again, especially for being wrong,” Murphy started slowly, “isn’t this your knife?”

Bellamy’s eyes shot up to the knife in Murphy’s hand. He remembered Clarke taking it from him, her hand soft yet firm as she began to hum. She’d taken the burden off of his shoulders that day, and he’d tried to do the same for her in Mount Weather. But some burdens were impossible to lift. It didn’t mean he would ever stop trying though.

Silently, Bellamy gestured to the trail leading away from the blood. It was clear that someone or something had been dragged through here recently. Thankfully there hadn’t been a new snowfall in two days, or else the path may have been covered. His team stepped to opposite ends of the trail, guns raised and alert. 

Miller spotted it first, holding up his hand and gesturing to the rubble. They’d been walking for over an hour, the wind picking up around them and nearly making them lose the trail a few times. It was times like this that Bellamy could admit that he missed Spacewalker a little. Luckily, Miller had been paying attention and learned a few of their dead friend’s tracking skills.

At first glance the rubble didn’t look like much more than rocks, but a smear of blood revealed a half-hidden hatch. It took both Bellamy and Miller to get it open, the four of them freezing in place when they heard voices down below. Bellamy cocked his gun, holding a finger over his lips before they all descended quickly down the ladder. This room of the bunker was small and dimly lit with a heavy door cracked open, revealing a sliver of light. 

Bellamy slowly pulled the door closer, peeking around the edge. A group of five grounders stood in a semicircle, laughing and drinking as they looked at something just out Bellamy’s sight. Despite his time with Indra and Lincoln, he hadn’t picked up on much Trigedasleng, so he had no idea what they were saying, but the tone was clearly one of celebration. One of the men turned and threw his drink, laughter erupting at the quiet cry from the corner of the room.

Bellamy’s stomach turned as one of the men stepped back and he caught a glimpse of blonde hair. A rough hand gripped her by the chin, her blues devoid of any emotion but fear. Her clothes had been ripped to shreds and there were marks everywhere; bruises, cuts, and burns. The grounder leaned forward, staring into her eyes as his hand stroked a rough path down her bare skin. He laughed at the fear in her eyes and slammed his fist hard into her already purpling stomach. 

The party laughed again, another one waving a knife in front of her face, speaking in thickly accented English, “And now we finish it.”

Two of the grounders grabbed Clarke, and turned her away from Bellamy’s crew who had still not been detected. Bellamy was inching forward, though Miller’s hand at his back served as a warning to wait for the right chance. Her hands above her head shook, and the chains seemed to cut deeper into her wrists with the twisting motion. Across her back in knife marks were the letters ‘W A N H E D’ and before their eyes the grounders lifted the knife to add the final letter. 

Bellamy fired the shot before they could, killing the grounder with the knife instantly. “Don’t let them escape!” Miller, Murphy, and Monroe spilled into the room behind him, each jumping straight into action. 

Bellamy only had eyes for Clarke then, the boy rushing to her side. She dangled there, her eyes fluttering open and shut slowly as if she didn’t even know what was going on. His hands hovered over her body, afraid to touch her and bring her more pain. Months of searching when no one else would, and he had finally found her. “Clarke,” he breathed, one hand finally brushing over her cheek.

It took a moment, maybe only seconds, but her eyes slowly moved over and found his. Her lips were pale and they opened, mouthing his name, but no sound came out. 

“Y-you’re okay,” he whispered, a lump in his throat as he finally allowed himself to touch her. He lifted her slowly, trying his best not to put any pressure. He worked the chains with one hand, supporting her with the other. Tears were threatening to overflow each time he heard her cry out, and he whispered quiet reassurance as he tried not to see all that had been done to her. 

Her wrists were mangled and bloody from days of hanging, and her neck was a deep purple from the noose they’d dragged her here with. Her back bled. Her stomach was one giant bruise that made Bellamy terrified to move her. He finally lowered her to the ground, the two of them the only ones left in the room. She shivered, and he took in her state of undress, the way only random pieces of cloth hung from her gaunt frame. 

Bellamy slowly shrugged off his new guard jacket he’d received from Kane and with careful hands he slid her arms into the sleeves. It was much too large for her, but it offered her a big of dignity that these grounders had tried to take from her. He started to move toward one of the dead grounders when he felt her hand grip his wrist weakly. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes pleaded with him to stay. 

“I’m not leaving you,” he whispered, holding her cheek for a moment. “I swear.”

Her bottom lip quivered. Her hand fell limply, but her eyes remained alert. He brought her the grounder’s pants, also way too big, but it would at least protect her from the elements outside. He carefully curled his arms around her and picked her up. He had to get her home fast.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She felt so much smaller than he remembered, even from a few nights ago, and holding her like this, he could feel how loose her clothes fit her. “You’re okay… I’m here,” he whispered, drawing her into his chest.
> 
> She sobbed into his shirt, fingers grasping at any part of him that she could reach. Practically in his lap, she hid her face in his chest, her nails digging painfully into the back of his neck. “I can’t, Bellamy, I can’t…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! I wasn't really expecting anyone to read, so to get such sweet reviews was the best feeling in the world. I hope this chapter does not disappoint!

Clarke lost consciousness sometime into the walk, her tiny hand gripping Bellamy’s shirt. He held her as close as he could without rattling her too much, hoping to give her a bit of warmth even as the harsh winds froze him to his bones. They found the rover not far off from where they had started their search, and Bellamy slipped into the back with Clarke in his lap. It was an awkward fit and forced the rest of his team into the front together.

Miller and Murphy exchanged a look at that – Bellamy never let anyone else drive the rover out on a mission. Miller supposed it was his protective streak; Murphy was pretty sure that Bellamy was just a control freak.

Camp was used to Bellamy going out at all hours, but there was still one person who came running as the rover pulled to a stop. Octavia was at the door before Miller had even gotten it open, her imploring eyes seeking out her brother. “Bellamy?” 

She froze, her eyes widening with wonder and making her look more like the innocent girl who chased butterflies than the warrior she had become. For months, all she could feel when she thought about Clarke was a deep sense of betrayal for Ton DC. For leaving. For all sorts of things. But now, as she watched her brother carry her former friend, just a wisp of a girl, into the med bay, all she could think was that she had never seen Clarke look so small. No, she had been their fearless leader, taking her rightful place next to Bellamy. Two sides of the same coin, stronger together, even when they opposed each other.

Bellamy barely even acknowledged Octavia beyond much more than a quick glance. Clarke was shivering against his chest, her fingers white where they wrapped around the bottom of his shirt, the only sign that she was awake. He laid her down carefully on the small cot, eyes immediately searching for something to warm her up. Octavia seemed to read his mind. A thick sheet was wrapped loosely around Clarke, and her mouth fell open in a silent cry as Abby rushed into the room. 

Her voice was a blur for Clarke. Just another overwhelming sound on top of the pounding in her skull. She was aware of someone removing Bellamy’s jacket and stripping her down beneath the sheet. She saw tears in her mother’s eyes. But the comforting hand her mom placed on her shoulder felt like acid to her as Bellamy was led out of the room by Jackson. She struck out without even thinking, thrashing around and opening her wounds as she silently cried out for the one bit of comfort she had left. ‘Bellamy!’

“Jackson, sedate her!” Abby held down Clarke’s arms, worried she would hurt herself more if she didn’t stop fighting them.

“Stop, you’re scaring her!” Bellamy rushed back to the bed now. He stepped between Abby and Clarke, sinking into a crouch so that he was eye level with Clarke.

“Clarke, Clarke, you’re okay. You’re home now,” he whispered. His fingers curled around her hand and the effect was nearly immediate. She released a shaky breath and stopped fighting.

Bellamy brushed his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear. Jackson had the syringe now, and Bellamy kept Clarke’s attention, his voice cracking a little from the cold as he whispered, “I won’t leave your side. You’re safe.”

***

Clarke didn’t wake up for three days, and for those three days Bellamy didn’t sleep. Clarke’s color had improved and her wounds were stitched, but she still looked too frail and breakable. The only real sign of life (and the only thing keeping Bellamy sane) was the slow rise and fall of her chest. Abby, Jackson, and a rotation of patients came routinely to break the silence, but at the end of the day, Bellamy was the one by her side.

Sometime during the night he drifted off into a strange half-sleep. He saw the first few weeks on the ground play out in front of his eyes, though he was aware of the heaviness of his body in that makeshift chair next to Clarke. He saw Clarke’s fear as she was reunited with Finn after the massacre of the 18, saw Octavia’s devastation as she tried desperately to free Lincoln of Mount Weather’s Control, and saw Jasper’s hate as he looked up at Clarke, Bellamy, and Monty with Maya’s dead body in his arms.

In his dreams, a soft hand stroked over his messy hair. He smiled and leaned into it, finding himself back at the tree where he had killed Dax to save Clarke’s life. She smiled back at him, sad and scared, but determined to get him to go back with her. “Bellamy.”

Slowly his eyes opened, a pair of scared blues staring back at him. He shot up in his chair, her hand falling from its place in his curls.

“Clarke,” he breathed her name, his voice thick with emotion and rough from lack of use. 

Despite the obvious pain on her face, her lips lifted, just a little. She closed her eyes as his fingers skimmed down her cheek and over her jaw, “I’ll go get Abby.”

“No!” Her voice cracked, but she gripped his hand, her nails lightly piercing his palm. “No, not yet, please. Please,” she said again, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Okay, okay, we can wait a few minutes. But then I’m getting Abby.” He felt her grip loosen, their linked hands still against her cheek. She leaned into it and let out a shaky breath, relaxing next to him.

“You’re hurt,” Clarke whispered, frowning. Her other hand moved to his head again, brushing a bump against his hairline. His skin was warm beneath her cool fingers, and she sighed.

Bellamy shook his head, unable to stop his eyes from drifting down to her neck for a moment. There were deep black lines from the rope she’d been dragged with. She coughed quietly and Bellamy pushed himself up before she could protest again. He poured her a glass of water, holding her by the back of her neck as he helped her drink. A little water dribbled from the edge of her mouth, and he forced a smile as he wiped it away with his thumb, “I don’t remember you being this messy before, Princess.”

She laughed, weak and teary, and he brushed her dirty hair away from her face. “I’m going to get Abby now. But I’ll be back. I promise.”

Clarke was stiff again when he and Abby walked into the room. Her spine was straight and she avoided meeting her mother’s eyes. There was a sense of shame in her chest as her mother’s gloved hand lightly pressed on the stiches in her back. She hummed lightly and jotted a few notes down on her chart. 

She stepped in front of Clarke and frowned; her daughter’s eyes were glued to a spot above her head. She cleared her throat and licked her suddenly dry lips. Was the reason Clarke couldn’t even look at her because she blamed Abby for not coming after her herself? Was she hurt that after all that time, it was Bellamy and her friends from the dropship that had saved her?

“Clarke, how are you feeling?”

The blonde half-blinked, blinded by her own tears. She didn’t look at her mother still. She couldn’t. “I’m okay.” Then, eyes shifting to Bellamy, she spoke again, surer this time. “I’m okay.”

“I want to keep you here for a few more days to make sure there’s no internal damage. I know it’s scary in here at night, but-“

“I’m not afraid.” Clarke finally looked at her mother. There was something in her eyes that her mother had only seen in her once… after Finn. A cold shame. Then, turning her eyes back to Bellamy, she whispered, “You should go. You haven’t slept.”

It was obvious from the bags under his eyes. And though the last thing Clarke wanted was to be alone, she couldn’t stand the thought of Bellamy withering away for her.

“Clarke, I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Clarke pushed herself up a little, reaching out and settling her hand against his cheek again, “You can’t carry my burden this time, Bellamy. I won’t let you.”

She turned away from him then. Whimpers fell from her lips as she aggravated her wounds. Bellamy’s brows drew together and he hesitated, only leaving because Abby had hooked her hand around his bicep and was dragging him out. These Griffin women were bossy as hell.

“Give her time,” she told him, glancing back at the opening of med bay. “After what she’s been through, she just needs space. She’ll be okay,” she breathed, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than him.

He glanced back too, nodding his head and sounding unconvinced, “Yeah.. I’m sure you’re right.”

***

Bellamy paced outside of medical, shooting glares at anyone who got too close. Raven nudged his arm and raised a perfect brow at his attempt to scare her off. “So,” she drew out slowly, amusement masking her own concern, “I take it Clarke’s not out yet?”

He huffed out a sigh. “I haven’t even seen her in three days. Abby says she’s not eating or sleeping. I tried to sneak in,” he admitted sheepishly, a light flush spreading down to where his shirt started. “Jackson ratted me out and Abby threatened to have me thrown in lockup if I didn’t let her work in peace. How serious do you think she was?”

Raven snorted and nudged him with her elbow again, “She’s just looking out for Clarke. You know what that’s like – she doesn’t make it easy.”

The med bad opened and Bellamy stood up straighter, his eagerness at seeing Clarke again overshadowing his exhaustion. She stepped outside slowly, squinting at the harsh light of the sun after a week of seeing only minimal light. She drew back a little and blinked, a barely-there smile crossing her lips when she saw Bellamy and Raven waiting for her.

Raven limped forward, pulling Clarke into a hug. The blonde stiffened, but it only took a few seconds before she wrapped her bandaged arms around Raven. Her eyes met Bellamy’s over Raven’s shoulder, and she reached out. Her shoulders sagged in relief when he wrapped his hand around her much smaller one.

Raven pulled back and grinned, “Let’s go find you a room.”

Most of the original 100 had rooms near each other in what remained of the Ark. Clarke sat on the edge of the bed in her tiny room a while later, after she had assured Bellamy and Raven both that she was fine. She brushed her fingers over the cold, hard walls, a quiet gasp escaping her lips before she could stop it.

Her chest started to rise and fall rapidly, the walls feeling like they were closing in on her. In her mind she was back in her cell on the skybox, in her too-clean room at Mount Weather… back in that bunker in chains. She slipped to the floor, arms wrapping around her knees as she curled into a ball. Her cries were loud, practically echoing, but they were swallowed up by the walls.

Bellamy slipped away at dinner, two plates in his hand. It was technically against the rules to take food back to the dorms, but he had never been one to listen to authority. He knocked on Clarke’s door, slowly pushing it open when he didn’t get an answer. She was tucked into herself in the corner, staring into space as she cried. 

He practically tossed the plates onto the bed before sinking down to the floor with her. He didn’t wait for permission before wrapping his arms around her. She felt so much smaller than he remembered, even from a few nights ago, and holding her like this, he could feel how loose her clothes fit her. “You’re okay… I’m here,” he whispered, drawing her into his chest.

She sobbed into his shirt, fingers grasping at any part of him that she could reach. Practically in his lap, she hid her face in his chest, her nails digging painfully into the back of his neck. “I can’t, Bellamy, I can’t…”

“You can’t what? Clarke, talk to me,” he breathed, pulling back to cup her cheeks. He felt her hot tears on his hands, and he brushed them away with his thumbs.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, bottom lip shaking. “I can’t be… her anymore. I’m not the same. I can’t sleep in this room. I can’t live in this fucking box. I can’t breathe here, B-Bellamy. I can’t.” Then, quieter, “I’m scared, but I can’t-“ 

Her voice trailed off again, but Bellamy pressed, knowing there was more, “You can’t what, Clarke?”

Her eyes fluttered, exhaustion seeping into her bones. “I can’t do this to you. Not again.”

“Do what to me?”

Her eyes were a hazy gray now as they met his stormy gaze, “I left so you didn’t have to, to bear the pain of what we did. But you did. I can see that you did. I didn’t spare you, Bellamy, I cursed you. I burdened you. Being here, being with you, I’m doing it again.” She sniffled, unable to stare into those caring eyes for another second. “I don’t want to destroy you. Like Finn.”

“That, that’s what you think?” Bellamy’s eyes darkened and he saw the confusion in her face. “You think you being here, that getting to see you alive is a burden on me? Damn it, Clarke, do you even-“

He sat back, Clarke shifting onto her knees as she watched him. 

“Do you even have any idea how you leaving hurt me?”

“Bellamy, I-“

“No, let me finish!” She swallowed hard but clamped her mouth shut. “Yeah, you’re right, I went through it alone. So did Monty, by the way. But what kept me going was knowing that you were out there somewhere. I knew that no matter what, I had to bring you home. No matter what guilt you feel, Clarke, you are-“ he clenched his jaw, voice tight with emotions he had been keeping in, “you are my family. Our family. You told me once that you needed me. Well I need you.”

Clarke’s face softened, but her eyes still seemed unsure. “Why? All I do is get everyone killed. If I stay here, you’ll die too.”

He blinked back tears, hands cupping her cheeks again. They were sunken in from lost weight, and the circles under her eyes were more pronounced by how pale she was. But fuck it, she was Clarke. And she was alive. And he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life than that fact.

“You saved me, Clarke. A million times over. With your faith in me and with, with your resolve to always save everyone. We’ve failed so many times, but we did it together. For better or for worse, you were my partner in everything. You made me a better man, Clarke. And yeah, I’m pissed at you. I see you now and part of me is fucking furious with you. You didn’t just leave our people. You didn’t just burden me… you abandoned me. ME.”

His eyes closed as a tear fell, her tiny hand pressing against his cheek to catch it. “I need you, Clarke. And I think right now, whether you want to admit it or not, you need me too. I couldn’t heal after Mount Weather without you. But you’re here now, and maybe, maybe we can work on that-”

“Together,” she finished for him, bottom lip quivering again. Slowly she nodded, another sob escaping her lips as she buried her face back into his chest. Her voice was hard to understand through the sobs, but he heard her mumbled apologies and felt them in the desperate way her hands clung to him.

Minutes passed or maybe hours. They ate dinner together, and he didn’t leave until she had fallen asleep. He laid back in his bed a while later, exhausted. He found he couldn’t sleep though, unable to turn his brain off. There was a soft knock on the door, and he sat up. Clarke slipped inside, biting her bottom lip as she looked at him wordlessly.

His face softened. “Can’t sleep?”

“The room feels too small,” she whispered. “Could I just sit here a while? I won’t keep you awake,” she promised.

He nodded and shifted to the far side of the bed. Clarke didn’t climb in though like he expected. She sat in front of the door, pressing her back against it. It was only then that he noticed the sketchbook in her hands. He frowned in confusion.

“I woke up and Monty was dropping it off. You don’t mind?”

Bellamy’s face softened, “No, I don’t mind.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a new one tonight. Clarke, hanging loosely from her wrists, eyes staring into his. He’d told himself then that her look meant ‘save me,’ but he knew it wasn’t true. He knew Clarke better than anyone. Her look didn’t mean that at all; it meant… ‘kill me.’
> 
> “H-hey, you’re okay. It’s just a dream.” Her lips were close to his ear. Slowly his eyes fluttered open to meet hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! I'm not sure how many more chapters this is going to be, but I'm still inspired, so we'll see! I hope you enjoy!

Bellamy woke barely two hours after he had said goodnight to Clarke and fallen asleep. He hadn’t really meant to, content to just lie there while she sketched. But exhaustion had called to him, and the gentle scratch of pencil on paper had lulled him right to sleep.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as his nightmares played out one last time for him. This wasn’t anything new, and yet each time it seemed a little worse. He didn’t talk about it with anyone. Every single night the same dreams came to him. No, not dreams – memories.

His mother, beautiful and resilient as she accepted her fate - never once looking away from him as she was floated. Atom, staring up at him with blind eyes begging for a death Bellamy was too scared to give. Murphy with his look of betrayal as Bellamy kicked the barrel out from under him and he hung for the one crime he didn’t commit. Charlotte, sweet tiny Charlotte, taking his advice and murdering one of their own; her death. His sister getting weaker by the moment with an arrow sticking out of her leg. Mount Weather, hundreds of bodies surrounding him as he realized that he had just committed genocide. 

There was a new one tonight. Clarke, hanging loosely from her wrists, eyes staring into his. He’d told himself then that her look meant ‘save me,’ but he knew it wasn’t true. He knew Clarke better than anyone. Her look didn’t mean that at all; it meant… ‘kill me.’

“H-hey, you’re okay. It’s just a dream.” Her lips were close to his ear. Slowly his eyes fluttered open to meet hers.

Clarke had abandoned her place by the door, her sketchbook all but forgotten as she smoothed her fingers through his hair. He knew her knees had to ache in that position on the cement floor, but she made no move to get more comfortable. Her own troubled eyes were studying him, and he wondered for a moment if this was the doctor in her always needing to make sure everyone was okay, or the leader. 

He didn’t say anything for a long time, focusing on the feeling of her hands. One stroked his sleep-mussed curls while the other moved slowly up and down his back. She touched him delicately, like he’d seen her do a hundred times when any of the delinquents had been in her care. Even now, in this lost state she was in, she felt the need to protect him.

“You’re still here?”

He sat up slowly. Her hands slipped down into her lap and she looked down, guilt clouding her face. She cleared her throat and seemed to be at a loss for words. Just as she seemed ready to bail, he shook his head. “I just mean, you haven’t slept yet?”

Clarke tried to soothe his worries with a smile, shaking her head, “Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that room. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed. I’ll let you sleep.”

Bellamy didn’t know if it was because of his dreams or that hurt look in her eyes, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her going back to that room alone. You’d think he would be used to being alone by now; he had been since the moment his mother was floated and Octavia was taken to the skybox. Even on Earth, when he was surrounded by 100 other people, he had felt utterly alone. “Clarke, you don’t have to go. But you can’t-“ he paused, correcting himself, “I won’t let you sleep on the floor. There’s plenty of room up here.”

She hesitated, even as he scooted back and lifted the fur blanket for her, “Bellamy…”

“You would be doing me a favor,” he admitted, his eyes vulnerable. She was reminded of the day she left Camp Jaha, how she knew if she looked into those sad eyes for even a second longer she would never have been able to leave. “If you went back to your room right now, I would just be up worried that you weren’t sleeping. And then I wouldn’t be able to sleep. And uh, well, you’ve seen me after a sleepless night, right? I can be a total asshole,” he said, lips quirking up despite his serious tone.

Clarke smiled, a real smile though it didn’t fully reach her eyes, and relented. It was awkward at first, neither really knowing how to fit into that tight space together. They used to move so fluid together, but right now it just felt stiff. As close as they’d been, and as intimately as they had known each other, they had never shared a bed before. After about 30 seconds of trying to get comfortable, Clarke giggled. It was barely there and only lasted a second, but it lifted a huge weight off of Bellamy’s chest. He had been worried that he would never hear that sound again.

“Okay, let’s try this one more time,” Bellamy laughed a little, breathless. He scooted a little further, too far, and fell right off the edge. Clarke’s eyes widened and the gasp that escaped her lips made him laugh so loud that it echoed against the thick walls. She buried her face in her hands, and though he couldn’t hear her laughter, he was delighted to see her shoulders shake and the smile she couldn’t hide under her hands.

“You know, I think I’m fine down here.” Her smiled softened. She tugged on his hand, biting her lip as he climbed back onto the bed. He laid on his back and this time Clarke pressed herself into his chest, her legs tangling with his. Both froze, half expecting another accident. It only took another few seconds for Clarke to relax, all her tension melting away as she curled her fingers into shirt over his pec. 

“Good?” Bellamy finally asked. He laid his hand over hers on his chest and felt it relax.

“Good,” she agreed. Now, looking at her in the darkness of his room, she looked more like the young girl she was supposed to be. He didn’t see Wanheda or the leader of the 100. He just saw Clarke. Vulnerable, small, but the strongest person he had ever met.

Clarke.

***

Clarke was different now. She didn’t smile the way she used to or go out of her way to make sure every person was taken care of. In fact, Bellamy didn’t see her smile much at all outside of the confines of his room. She had been staying there for just over a week, and everyone already knew that was where they would find her even though she had never officially moved in. Her own room – there in case she ever needed it – remained empty. Every night Clarke would sketch for a while, back against the door. And when she noticed him yawn, she would tuck her sketchbook away and climb into bed. They hadn’t struggled with it since that first night.

With the exception of Jasper, all of their friends had made an effort to reconnect to Clarke. Even Murphy, whose last memory of Clarke was her blaming him for what Finn had done, had attempted to reach out to her one evening. They’d been sitting near the fire sipping Monty’s newest batch of moonshine – he hadn’t really done anything like that since Mount Weather. 

Clarke, in a moment of weakness, looked at Murphy, breaths tight in her chest as she whispered, “I should have died in that bunker. I should be dead.”

He paused, cup nearly at his lips and shrugged, “So should I. Glad you’re not, for what it’s worth.”

She tapped her cup against his, glanced at their friends across the fire and whispered, “Yeah, me too.”

***

“Okay, I can’t stand this anymore, Clarke. You’re coming with me.” Clarke shot Bellamy a concerned look – she and Octavia hadn’t been alone since she’d been back; in fact, their last words to each other had been Octavia telling Clarke how everything was her fault. Octavia paused, either not noticing the silent communication going on or not caring.

Clarke raised his shoulder a little and offered Bellamy the extra apple she’d grabbed for breakfast. He was just finishing up, but he shot her a thankful smile. Before he could offer to come with, Octavia shot him a smug grin, “Oh and Bell, Kane wants you and Lincoln in the training room. We’ll see you soon, big brother.”

Surprise filtered across Clarke’s face as she and Octavia reached the communal showers. What surprised her more was to see Raven there, holding a rusty pair of scissors they’d found in a bunker. “Um, what’s going on?”

The two girls exchanged a look. “Sit.”

She eyed the scissors warily and tiptoed her way onto the chair they’d dragged in the center of the shower. With the exception of the three of them, the shower was completely empty, which was pretty much unheard of. “What exactly are we doing here?”

“No offense, but this grungy grounder princess look does not work for you,” Octavia said bluntly. She shrugged at Raven’s look that said ‘maybe a little too much?’ “You just don’t look like yourself anymore, that’s all I’m trying to say. I know you’ve been through some stuff-“ understatement of the year, thought Clarke, “-but you’re here.”

“You’re alive,” added Raven. She brushed her hand over Clarke’s hair, pretending not to notice when Clarke froze for a moment. The blonde relaxed and Raven smiled, or she got as close to a smile as she could when Finn’s death still haunted her dreams. “It’s time to live now, Clarke, not just survive. Let us remind you of that. We want to do something nice for you.”

“For all of us really,” Octavia muttered. Clarke would have been offended if she didn’t agree. And if this wasn’t as close to forgiveness as she expected to get with the youngest Blake.

“So,” Raven laid her hand on Clarke’s shoulder, “how short do you want it?”

“Surprise me.”

Clarke closed her eyes and let her friends work. It was kind of nice actually, the weightlessness as her hair hit the ground. She didn’t speak the entire time, just listening to them chatter amongst themselves. They didn’t seem to mind. Afterward, but before they would let her see herself, she showered. With the showers finally empty, she took all the time she needed. Her scarred back carried a shame she wasn’t ready to admit out loud. The clothed she changed into were still loose on her, but for the first time in a while she didn’t look like a zombie.

“Okay, we’re all set.” 

She peeked one eye open first and then the other. Raven and Octavia stood in front of her, a piece of reflective metal in their hands. There was a lump in her throat as she looked at herself for the first time in months. The bags under her eyes were more pronounced because of the weight loss. Her brow was furrowed as if it didn’t know how to do anything else. And she was impossibly pale. 

Clarke forced her eyes away from her face, running her fingers through her hair slowly. It fell in very short waves, ending between her chin and shoulders. It was different than she’d ever had it, and there were still random strands of red that she hadn’t been able to wash away. It took her a moment before a soft smile replaced the sad one, “I love it.”

She met Raven’s eyes and then Octavia’s. Here were two girls whose worlds had been completely destroyed by Clarke’s hand, and yet here they were. Helping her. Taking care of her. If she hadn’t loved them before (Lexa was WRONG; love was the opposite of weakness), she definitely did now. 

“Thank you.” Her words carried more weight than their simple meeting. She watched emotion flicker over both their faces, and somehow she knew that they understood.

***

That night she was curled up and half asleep when Bellamy entered his room. She sat up and he paused, eyes widening a little. She watched his adam’s apple bob for a minute, and when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice cracked on the first word. “C-clarke, wow, you look…”

She bit her lip, a flush spreading across her chest and over her cheeks before she could stop it. He was looking down now though and didn’t see it, the back of his neck suddenly feeling impossibly hot. “You look good.”

He cleared his throat and got ready for bed. If Clarke’s eyes lingered a little on him as he climbed into bed beside her, she really had no control over it. She settled against his chest, her fingers drawing random patterns against his bare skin as she whispered, “I feel good.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Clarke,” her eyelashes fluttered at his gravely voice, “look at me.”
> 
> Finally, she did, heart breaking in the best way at what she saw in his eyes. Not one hint of malice or disgust. Bellamy looked at her like she was his entire world, like she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It was enough to wreck her heart. If she let it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the amazing comments! Unfortunately this story only has one more chapter to go after this one! I have loved writing this, and I have some ideas for a potential one-shot in the near future, so I will probably get started on that next!
> 
> I hope you guys love this as much as I loved writing it!

It was Monty’s idea, and while those were usually pretty brilliant, Bellamy wasn’t so sure this time. He hadn’t been back to Mount Weather after the massacre; as far as he knew, no one had. But with Abby wanting to open it up as a medical facility in the near future, Bellamy figured it was time to slay some of his demons. And maybe some of Clarke’s while they were at it.

Clarke’s hand found his and for a second he thought she was seeking comfort. But the gentle motion of her thumb against his knuckles told him that he was the one being comforted. She smiled at him, just barely, and he was relieved to see that the two months she had spent at Camp Jaha had healed her. At least physically. Her skin had a light glow to it from her days spent in the sun, the dark circles were all but gone from her eyes, and her clothes actually clung to her like they should.

“I haven’t been back here since…” Monty’s voice trailed off. He didn’t talk about it much, but Bellamy had heard his cries at night. As Jasper’s quiet rage had built up into something uncontainable, Monty had shrunk in on himself. Only Raven had been able to break through that wall completely, believe it or not. Like her, his mind was always clearest while solving a crisis or inventing something to save them all. Luckily, the ground provided plenty of opportunity for that.

“I have,” Clarke admitted. Both boys looked surprised. She gnawed gently on her bottom lip and brushed her fingers through her short hair. Bellamy would never say it out loud, but doing just that was his favorite way to pass the silence at night. As if she could sense his thoughts, Clarke’s hand moved over and brushed a curl off his forehead. Octavia had been trying to cut it for weeks, but every time he crawled into bed and Clarke’s fingers started their assault, he knew he would never let her do it.

“When I left,” she paused; she hated talking about her time away. She hated remembering that she had left two of her favorite people to grieve alone, “I came here first. There were bodies… everywhere. I didn’t want to leave them like that.”

“You buried them?”

Bellamy blinked in surprise, “All of them?”

“No, not all of them,” she corrected.

The entrance to Mount Weather stood in front of them now, but Clarke walked left. Bellamy’s hand still firmly in hers, he followed. There were several mounds of dirt near the river and though grass had grown over them, there were small stone markers above them. 

“I buried the people who helped us. And the ch-children,” her voice cracked. “I buried President Wallace, and, and Maya. The rest-“ she looked down, shame or insecurity clouding her face, “-there were too many. I gave them a grounder funeral.”

“You burned them,” Monty supplied, his voice quiet. He laid his hand on her shoulder, felt her stiffen, but didn’t pull back. They all knew Clarke’s ticks by now; they knew that just because she froze didn’t mean she didn’t need it.

“I know it was probably wrong to do it, to make that choice for them, but, I didn’t want them to ro-“ she stopped, unable to even say the words. Bellamy’s fingers squeezed hers a little too hard. “We didn’t have a choice; I still believe that. Despite everything, I think we did the only thing we could.”

It was the most she had said about the incident, at least in the light of day. At night Bellamy knew all her secrets and fears. She didn’t hide anything when all he could see were her eyes in the dark. 

“But next time, next disaster, we need to do-“ she stopped again, stumbling over the right word. 

Bellamy supplied it for her, “Next time we’ll do better. We’ll find another way.”

“Next time, we won’t be separated.” Monty added. Maybe it was the wrong way of thinking, these three damaged people who knew that no matter what happened, they would do whatever they could for their people. Sometimes that meant helping Raven create better radios, sometimes it meant stitching up a cut or patrolling camp, and sometimes it meant staying out of the way and letting someone else lead for a while.

That last one didn’t sit well with Bellamy or Clarke, no matter how much they each tried to keep their nose out of things. Bellamy was a little grateful for it actually – as long as Clarke was still paying attention to how her mother and Kane led, she was still here. Still with him.

The three of them spent the next week clearing Mount Weather of broken equipment and cleaning away any sign on the horrors that had happened there. Pretty much anyone would be a better fit for this job, but they didn’t shy away from it, no matter what they felt. At night they slept in a tent, none of them willing to spend a single night in there. Afterward, the place reminded them more of the Ark with its cold hard walls. 

“It looks like home,” Bellamy said dryly. Monty agreed with a quiet tsk.

“No,” Clarke said quietly. Her eyes lingered on his face in the light of the fire between them. She didn’t know when exactly it had happened. Maybe it was in those first weeks on Earth, at the bunker. Or maybe it was when they’d been reunited after Mount Weather took her. Or when he saved her. Or any of the millions of tiny moments in between. But Camp Jaha wasn’t home for Clarke. The Ark wasn’t home.

Home was freckles that looked like constellations, a scar above perfect lips, an adorable chin dimple, and rough hands doing the softest things to her heart in the middle of the night. It was Bellamy. 

“This doesn’t look like home at all,” she whispered, slightly breathless at the revelation.

***

Clarke stared over her shoulder into the reflective metal she and Bellamy had hung up as a mirror. His room had been pretty bare when she stated staying here with him, but now his formerly empty desk was a mess of his ideas and her sketches. Her clothes were mixed with his in a barrel near the door, and a couple mornings were spent with her quietly giggling in bed while he chose the wrong shirt. She would never admit that she purposely placed hers on top just to see his half-hearted scowl in her direction.

It was the beginning of spring now, and all her physical wounds had healed. Emotional… they might never heal completely. The scars on her back were a testament to what she had been through and who she had become. 

She was no longer Clarke Griffin, Princess of the Ark, daughter of Jake Griffin, best friend of Wells Jaha, or lover of Finn Collins. She wasn’t the leader of the 100. Or Wanheda. She was just, just Clarke. She had been broken apart a million times, starting with her father and ending in that bunker. When Bellamy found her, she was a puzzle waiting to be pieced together. And that was exactly what he had done.

He had taken each tiny piece and glued it back into place. Sure, some pieces were still lost, but he filled those holes each time he looked at her. She loved him. It was plain and clear and easy. She loved Bellamy Blake. 

But broken things couldn’t be loved.

She blinked back tears even though she was alone. Her vision blurred and burned, the word across her back a testament to the monster she was on the inside. As much as she healed and tried to help others heal, there was a part of her that believed she truly was the Commander of Death. 

No sooner had a tear fallen that the door to Bellamy’s room (she still couldn’t bring herself to call it their room) opened. Her shirt had been discarded on the floor, and it took too long for her to reach for it, her eyes meeting Bellamy’s through the mirror. She covered her chest with her hands, and turned so that she was facing him. 

It wasn’t her nudity she was afraid of him seeing – he’d seen all of her before in various situations. But never once, not since the bunker, had she let him see her scars. He stepped toward her, as if knowing what she was thinking – he always seemed to be doing that.

“Please, don’t,” she whispered, bowing her head.

For once, he didn’t listen. She squeezed her eyes tight and felt every step he took closer to her. She could feel his body heat as he slipped up behind her. She shivered.

Bellamy’s fingers brushed the ‘W’ on her back. Her shocked gasp as she felt his hot breath on her skin turned into a veiled sob as he placed a gentle kiss there. Each kiss was butterfly soft, almost tickling her in its gentleness. He traced every single letter, first with his fingers and then his lips. 

Clarke’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. Her eyes were closed and her mouth parted, silent tears sliding down her cheeks as he kissed the spot where the final letter would have been. 

She expected him to stop then, to step back and end this… whatever this was. Instead, his longer fingers curled into her hair, lifting it off the back of her neck. She had another scar there from a fall when she was a child, something she had whispered to Bellamy in the privacy of the night.

She felt him circle around her, every footstep slow. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes or to even open hers. Something was changing here. Bellamy had the most expressive eyes of anyone she had ever met – if she looked at him now and what she saw wasn’t… if it wasn’t what she needed, she didn’t think she could handle that.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, and she caught a tiny glimpse of his curls before her eyes squeezed tighter. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

She was still wearing the tiny shorts she wore to sleep. His rough hand curled around her right ankle and he pushed up a little, leaning in and kissing the cut that ran up her thigh, then the small, barely-there scar on her ankle. On and on it went, his mouth and fingers touching every scar he could find. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he rose before her, slowly hooking his fingers around both her wrists. 

The tug was gentle, letting her resist if she wanted. She didn’t. First, he kissed the healed bullet wound on her upper arm and then the cuts above her right breast. She sucked in an embarrassingly loud breath at that.

“Clarke,” her eyelashes fluttered at his gravely voice, “look at me.”

Finally, she did, heart breaking in the best way at what she saw in his eyes. Not one hint of malice or disgust. Bellamy looked at her like she was his entire world, like she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It was enough to wreck her heart. If she let it.

“They’re part of you,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“They’re awful.”

“They’re your story, and they’re beautiful. You are beautiful,” if her heart hadn’t already been racing that would have done it.

When she didn’t say anything for several minutes, Bellamy started to look nervous. He looked away, inching toward the door, but her hand in his stopped him. Clarke wasn’t good with words like he was, and she probably couldn’t do for him what he had just done for her, but she wanted to.

She lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his palm, her voice barely a whisper, “You got this when you saved Mel from the edge of that cliff. It doesn’t matter if it your idea or someone else’s – you did that.”

Like him, she slipped behind him, starting with his back. She slipped his shirt off and tossed it aside, her hands running smoothly over his skin as she pressed him to sit on the edge of the bed. He arched into the touch and she smiled. He was littered with dozens of tiny scars, so she focused on the big ones first, peppering kisses over them as her fingers traced patterns, using the smaller scars as points between the lines. 

“Clarke.”

His eyes were wide the whole time, alert and watching her with the same level of fear she’d felt. She touched every bit of his chest, bowing her head and kissing his heart. There was no physical scar there, but as she felt the wild beat of his heart, she knew it had been a good choice. “This one, so many people hurt. Your mom, every loss down here, Mount Weather… me. It will heal, Bellamy. I won’t top until it does,” she breathed.

Both were panting now, eyes locking together for a moment. She dropped her eyes to his lips and pressed her chest against his. They had never touched like this, at least not without layers of clothes between them. She took his hands and led them to her waist, pressing herself tighter to him as both his hands moved up her bare back.

She didn’t know how he’d gotten the scar above his lip – it had never occurred her to ask. But she leaned in slowly, curling her fingers into his hair as she pressed a gently kiss to the scar, just barely a brush of her mouth against his upper lip.

There were tears in both their eyes and suddenly Bellamy was tugging her closer and bowing his head against her chest. Her cheeks felt wet, but she was smiling. His lips moved against the skin between her breasts, mumbling quiet things she couldn’t hear. Her fists clenched in his hair as she laid her cheek on the top of his head. They held each other like that for a long time, her nails scraping comfortingly over his scalp.

“You’re perfect, Bellamy,” he shook his head, but she kept going, voice surer than it had ever been. “Even at your worst, you are so much more than all of us. You saved us. You saved me. Bellamy, this is, you are-“ she trailed off, unsure. And then quietly, “When I dream about home, I dream about freckles, and the way you mumble the sweetest things in your sleep, and, and-“

“I love you,” he whispered. She sucked in a breath and looked down, their eyes moving over each other’s slowly. 

A smile, the largest one he’s seen from her since landing on Earth, spread across her face. She was kissing him then, real this time, but still gentle. After a moment, she’s back to holding him, completely content.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She shook her head immediately. She stood, pressing a feather-soft kiss to his shoulder, “I didn’t want you to worry that I would, that I would leave you again. I don’t want to be here,” she whispered, kissing him again, more for her own benefit than his. “But I would stay forever to be by your side. You know that, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welllll, this is it! The final chapter.
> 
> I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read and/or reviewed this. You have all been amazing, and I have loved this story so much. I hope you have too!

Bellamy smiled and peeked one eye open. The quiet scratch scratch scratch of pencil on paper was a comforting sound. He lifted up onto his elbows, staring at the messy curls that spilled down the back of Clarke’s neck; all the red had finally faded, and he loved the way it glinted in the light. There was a gentle curve in her spine as she leaned over the lopsided desk, and he was delighted to see that she hadn’t bothered to dress in anything but her underwear. 

After that night all those weeks ago, things had changed drastically for Bellamy and Clarke. While she hadn’t told him she loved him back, there was no doubt in his mind that she did. She said ‘I love you’ in her every kiss – and kissing Bellamy was her favorite thing in the world these days. She said it with her fingers curling into his hair, at night with his lips between her thighs, and when she curled her fingers through his in front of their friends and silently claimed him as her own. 

There were no more secrets between them. No more shame. 

He slipped from bed, in just his boxer briefs, and padded over. Her hand stilled on the page when his lips brushed the top of her head. She sank back against him, eyes fluttering, “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Princess.”

She flushed happily at the nickname, spoken with such affection. She had hated him (and all the other delinquents) for calling her that in the beginning. The word had sounded so demeaning then, and after Finn… it had broken her heart. But now, the way he said it sounded like worship.

“I had this idea and I couldn’t stop,” she admitted. She gnawed lightly on her bottom lip, and he realized that both her hands were covering the page nervously.

Clarke never hid her sketches from him. Their walls were littered with images of Octavia, Monty, Miller, the two of them, Raven. In fact, Bellamy (with the help of Lincoln) had built Clarke a leather-bound book to keep her sketches in. She had spent weeks filling it up with pictures of lost friends, sweet memories, and even her dreams.

He didn’t have to wait long.

After about 20 seconds, Clarke moved her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Bellamy studied the sheet slowly, realizing that there were several more pages beneath that one. He looked through them all, spreading them across the desk, “You, you did all these tonight?”

She shook her head, still nervous, “I’ve been working on them for a few weeks. I know it’s probably impossible, but-“

“Clarke, this is amazing,” Bellamy cut her off. He was sure she would have scowled at the interruption if she hadn’t been so pleased by the genuine smile on his face.

She beamed then. His breath caught in his throat the way it did sometimes when she smiled; it still surprised him how healthy and happy she looked now. You did that, she would whisper to him in the night when he commented on her glow.

“Do you, do you think it’s possible?” She asked quietly. He didn’t understand her nervousness, and he told her as much as he curled their fingers.

“Yeah, I really do.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip and his face softened, “Why do you look nervous?”

There was a pause and then, quietly, “I didn’t want you to think…”

She trailed off, brushing her fingers over the sketches. She laid her hand over the middle one – the cabin she’d designed for herself and Bellamy. For weeks she had been building up this village in her mind, scaring herself a little with how perfectly she could picture it. Among the drawings were ideas for Raven, Miller and Monty (Clarke wasn’t even sure when the two of them had gotten together), Murphy, Monroe, and Octavia and Lincoln (though they had been spending a lot of time in his village). There were others too, of course, but these were what she had finished so far. It would require a lot of work, and she was sure it would hurt her mother, but the more she’d imagined it, the more she needed it.

“We would have to leave Camp Jaha,” she finally explained, brows furrowing a little as she avoided his gaze. They had never talked about leaving before, but she knew these cold walls bothered him as much as they bothered her.

He reached down, tugging her chin up lightly to meet her eyes, “Did you worry I wouldn’t want to go with you?”

She shook her head immediately. She stood, pressing a feather-soft kiss to his shoulder, “I didn’t want you to worry that I would, that I would leave you again. I don’t want to be here,” she whispered, kissing him again, more for her own benefit than his. “But I would stay forever to be by your side. You know that, right?”

Bellamy had forgiven her time and again, but there was enough damage between them that he knew it was still hard for her to forgive herself. He tucked her head under his chin and hugged her warm body to his. “I know. You don’t even have to say it.”

Her face softened. She wanted to say it, to reassure him of her love. The words stuck in her throat like they always did. Every man she had ever loved was dead. She couldn’t…

“I will,” she breathed, not knowing if he even knew where her head was at. 

He did. He always did. “I know you will,” he whispered back.

***

And she did.

It wasn’t until the end of summer that the first set of cabins was completed. They hadn’t even told Abby yet, just sneaking away with Miller and a few others whenever there was free time. All of them worked late into the night, even occasionally sleeping in the unfinished cabins overnight to begin work again in the morning. 

Bellamy and Clarke’s was first – she had decided that they deserved the selfishness just this once. The cabins were about an hour away from camp, just far enough for independence, but close enough to help if the need arose. If Kane and Abby noticed that Bellamy and Clarke were almost never in camp anymore, they didn’t comment. In fact, Abby’s permanently worried face whenever she glanced at Clarke had been much milder in the last few months.

Clarke wrapped her arms around Bellamy’s waist, their eyes wistful and proud as they looked at the start of their new civilization. They’d moved their things that morning, and they would be the first to officially sleep in their new camp. She tilted her head up and kissed his chin, smiling.

She felt warm, from the fire or maybe from the way he looked at her, and for the first time in a long time she felt like she had some good with her hands instead of destroying something. She curled their fingers and tugged him into their cabin. They had a little wooden table set up with a candle in the center, and she smiled at him through the flickering light.

Biting her bottom lip, she gave him a little push onto their bed – he had single-handedly carved the whole thing and used the many furs and pelts they’d gathered over their time on Earth to soften it. She slipped into his lap, cupping his cheek in her tiny hand. It trembled against his skin as her thumb stroked the stars that adorned his skin.

With her other hand, she wove her fingers into his curls. He leaned into her hand, his breaths shaky against her lips. “I love you.”

Bellamy’s eyes shot open. She smiled, pressing her forehead to his as she whispered the words again, “I love you.”

“Clarke-“

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” She chanted it like a mantra, peppering kisses everywhere she could. It was like once she had opened the floodgate, she couldn’t close it. They fell back against the bed, and she didn’t think she stopped whispering the words to him until they were sated and half asleep.

***

Scratch, scratch. Bellamy smiled before peeking one eye open. Clarke was sitting on the edge of the bed, furs pulled up to protect her naked form from the chilled air. Their eyes locked when she glanced up at him, and her face softened, “Sorry.”

He just smiled though, happy to be here with her. He turned his head and kissed her ankle, watching the blush spread across her chest. “What are you drawing?”

She didn’t answer for a long time, eyes flickering seriously between him and the sketchbook. Finally, looking satisfied, she answered, “Home.”

Clarke turned the sketchbook. Every line, every freckle and dimple was perfect. The smile in the drawing was that one he reserved just for her. The one she was pretty sure even Octavia didn’t know about. 

He sucked in a breath, met her eyes, and whispered, “Marry me.”

Clarke laughed in surprise, glancing back at her sketch in amusement, “Is it really that good?”

“I mean it,” he sat up, his hand gripping hers on the thick furs. “I know it doesn’t mean all the practical stuff it did on the Ark. Nothing would change, but-“

“But you would be my husband,” a slow smile spread across Clarke’s face. Before Bellamy could say anything else, she had launched herself into his arms with a quiet giggle. Her lips kissed every inch of his face.

Then, pressing their foreheads together, she finally nodded, “Yes.”

“Yeah?”

She giggled at his disbelieving look and pressed her face into his neck, “Yes, you beautiful, brilliant man.”

***

The wedding was small, literally just the two of them and Octavia. The party after though, that was wild. All the delinquents had come – including Jasper – and it was so reminiscent of that first Unity Day on Earth. There was plenty of moonshine to go around, and everywhere Bellamy and Clarke turned, someone was toasting them on finally getting their shit together.

Clarke slipped up next to Jasper, her hair a little wild from the wind. The flowers Octavia had braided into her waves were slipping out and getting lost in the soft white dress Octavia had sewed together for her. They hadn’t talked much since she’d been back. In fact, it had only been the one time, when she had slipped a sketch of Maya into his room. He’d yelled at her for about five minutes before bursting into tears. A few weeks later she’d seen the sketch pinned to his wall as she passed his room. He hadn’t smiled at her then, but the small nod he sent her way spoke a thousand words.

She raised her glass to him, and he tapped his against it. They didn’t speak for a minute, and she was surprised when he suddenly hugged her. It was over as quickly as it had started, and she stood there dumbfounded for a minute before a very different set of arms curled around her.

“Jealous?” she teased.

Bellamy’s laugh vibrated against her back and she leaned into him. His fingers stroked over her hand and she grinned, knowing exactly what he was doing. 

“You love it, don’t you?” She brushed her fingers over the wooden ring on his finger as he did the same for her. He nodded and buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of flowers.

“You’re my wife,” Bellamy whispered with such awe. It was the way he always talked to her, or about her, like she was the light that brought him true peace. Even when she drove him crazy. And well, he knew exactly what he was getting into when he married her.

She closed her eyes and turned around, pressing a kiss over his heart. So much had changed in the last year… everything really. Gone were the haunted eyes of warriors too young to have taken so many lives. They demons weren’t gone completely, and nightmares still haunted them from time to time, but it wasn’t overwhelming like before. They were no longer alone.

That night they slipped into their bed, the sounds of the party finally winding down around them. He kissed every scar on her body, every tiny scratch, and they started their married life like they’d started everything else in life. To lead. To heal. To love. 

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhh I can't believe it's over, but I'm so proud of this little story! Thank you all again for reading! I'm hoping to maybe dabble in this again, so if you're interested, keep an eye out for that! Thank you!!!


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